Hear the Sounds of Yesterday
by aaaaaaaaaa-sa-a
Summary: "I know."-"I will." Luke and Thalia deal with the ghosts haunting their hearts. Thaluke. One-shot.


He stares ahead, even when she sits down next to him.

"It took a while," she says, trying for light-heartedness, "but Annabeth is finally asleep. It's always like she's snorted five cups of sugar with all that ADHD in that little body."

He doesn't answer, just shifts slightly so that his head is angled away from her.

She sighs. He hears the leather of her jacket shift as she leans forward. "You shouldn't have yelled," she whispers. He squeezes his own arms. "I know everything sucks, but it sucks for us, too. For me."

He stays silent. Then, "I know."

It isn't much of an apology, but it's all that he can muster. Still, she allows him to place a finger under her chin, and lean his forehead against hers. Still, she allows him to stare into her eyes, into her soul. Still, she allows him to kiss her.

She slides a hand up his back, into his hair, and tugs it, letting him know he's not done asking for forgiveness yet. But for now, the blanket of night making them both weary of solitude, she lets it slide.

He kisses apologies into her jaw, hoping they'll suffice, though he knows she'll have him voice one to Annabeth in the morning.

Suddenly, tears are streaming down his face, and, suddenly, she's pulling away to wipe them off his face. He clutches onto her jacket, shaking and sobbing.

"I know," she whispers, running a hand up and down his back. "I know."

;

He continues walking ahead, even when Annabeth runs after him.

"Luke!" Annabeth shouts. "LUKE!" Though on tiny legs, she manages to catch up with him and grab his sleeve, stopping him.

"What?" he snarls, finally turning around. He hopes that the fury in his eyes will scare her away, so that he can wallow in pain and self-pity by his lonesome.

Annabeth doesn't, though. She returns his gaze with an equal amount of fury. There's electricity snapping and cracking in her eyes; a spark that reminds him of… _her_.

"You shouldn't have yelled," Annabeth whispers, and he can almost imagine dark hair and freckles on her. He shakes himself out of his thoughts and Annabeth off his arm before he can.

"I don't _care_ ," he grounds out.

Annabeth doesn't take the warning tone in his voice and carries on. "I know that Brady doesn't show it, but he's had a hard life, too!" Annabeth insists, poking him in the stomach, because she can't reach his heart like _she_ could, both figuratively and literally. "He's had just as much turmoil as your or I!"

He takes a couple steps back. "How _dare_ you compare his suffering to mine." He laughs bitterly, and bends over so that he can poke Annabeth a little too roughly on the chest. "And you–You're 'turmoil' isn't even in the same _ballpark_. You're just a dumb kid who ran away because her daddy found a girl he liked more. You're just an attention hog. You know nothing of pain, except for the kind you _create_ to get a rise out of somebody else!"

Tears well up in Annabeth's eyes, and he can see his regret as one rolls down her chubby cheek. But he's mad, mad, mad, and he can't find a way to _calm down_.

"Jerk!" Annabeth screams at him, spitting, before turning on her heel and running away. He's about to yell out another insult that will plague him in the morning like a hangover, but then, "I WISH YOU HAD DIED INSTEAD OF THALIA!"

And that takes all the fight out of him. The anger, the rage, the pain all escape with one glance at the tall pine set atop of the hill.

Suddenly, his feet are moving, and, suddenly, he's next to the pine he used to call friend. His hand ghosts over the rounder sections of bark, reminding him of buttons on a jacket.

He knows she would have allowed him to rest his head on her, so he does, leaning his forehead against the rough bark.

"I know," he whispers. Another poor attempt at on apology, but he can offer no better. She never liked it when he yelled. "I know."

;

;

She hisses when she shifts her leg.

She _could_ ask for help, but she's practically princess of Olympus. She can take care of herself.

She fiddles with the bandages, trying to finish stitching herself up. She sighs. He's so much better at this. Maybe she could…She shakes her head. No. The monster attack was her fault. He should be taking care of himself and Annabeth, not worrying about her.

Still, she hears the air shift around him not a minute later. Still, he kneels in front of her and takes the bandages from her to wrap them around her leg, like she's a dog not capable enough to lick her own wounds.

He works silently. He looks deathly, too, but it's just the fire casting shadows. He couldn't have gotten too hurt, because she wouldn't have been able to live with herself if he did.

There's blood–her blood, and it's better than his own–on his fingers, but she shivers for a different reason when he allows his thumb to brush the underside of her knee. He leans forward to press his lips against the joint, his eyes drifting closed, as if he's finally found solace in her. Pampering her. Protecting her.

"You should just ask for help next time," he whispers when he pulls away, breath dancing over the fine grain of hairs on her knee.

She gulps and tells the blush on her face to _cool it down_. "I will," she promises. A pause hangs in the air, as she glances over at Annabeth where she's sleeping on the other side of the fire. There's a bandage on her head, one on her arm, and even another on her thigh from the day's monster attack. Her throat tightens. "…If there will be a next time."

His eyes immediately snap up to hers, forcing her to gaze his gaze with the intensity of it. " _What_?" he demands, starting the word out loud but finishing it soft, careful not to wake Annabeth.

She sighs and leans forward. "I should just leave. Alone."

"Why would you ever _consider_ that?"

"You heard that Cyclops, Luke. Don't even pretend you didn't. He was there for _me_. They always are." She drops her head, not liking how his eyes are telling her not to even say the next words. "If…If I would leave you and Annabeth, then you two would have a chance. _You_ , would have a chance."

"Thalia." His voice begs her more than his words do. "Thalia. Look at me."

She resists, so he puts a finger under her chin, directing her gaze back on him. "There's no way we– _I_ would let you do that," he insists.

"But–"

He shakes her head. The motion cuts off whatever pathetic whines that were about to come out of her mouth. "We're a family. We stick together until the end, no matter what." He presses their foreheads together. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

He sounds so lost, so _broken_ , just at the idea, and she caves. Her eyes close. "Okay," she murmurs.

He nudges her cheek with his nose, urging her eyes open again. "Really?" he asks. "You'll stay with me?"

"I will." She nods, and shoves him back a little so that she can crawl on his lap and rest her head on his knee. It's been a long day. "I will."

;

She hisses when she shifts her leg.

She could ask for help, but she can take care of herself. She _is_ the Lieutenant of Artemis.

She, the lone demigod child of Zeus, can't reach down far enough so that she can change _all_ her bandages. It's too painful, leaning on her broken leg.

There's no one around to help her, anyway. She probably should be in the Artemis cabin, but there's more Hunters than beds in that building, so all the demigods were sent to sleep in their respective parents' cabins.

Air _whooshes_ in as somebody pushes open the heavy doors. She quickly pulls the blanket over her to hide her struggles, not so keen on being humiliated in front of one of her Hunters, but Annabeth's head pokes out from behind Statue Dad's thigh.

Annabeth moves closer, a fresh roll of bandages in one hand and a baggy a quarter full of ambrosia in the other. She groans when Annabeth pulls the blanket down, clearly not fooled.

She's handed a square of ambrosia before Annabeth kneels beside her, setting to work silently.

"You really should ask for help next time," Annabeth whispers when she wiggles out a tiny piece of rock still wedged in her calf. "I thought pride was my thing," Annabeth jokes, trying on humor, but she doesn't give a response.

The indoor storm groans with thunder and pops with lightning. Each flash casts eerie shadows over the sharp lines of Annabeth's face–sculpted lines that weren't there before… _everything_.

Annabeth has grown up, she realizes. There's no struggle to get all her ideas out, and no nervous energy about her anymore. There's only precise thoughts and carefully planned-out movements and controlled emotions.

She tries to remember clearly the kid Annabeth had once been, but can't. She can't fully see the near-woman in front of her, either; instead, she imagines Annabeth with blue eyes and straighter hair. She's so much like him, now. When did that happen?

Almost as if Annabeth is reading her thoughts, she says, "They're burying him today."

The comparing image moves from her eyes to her throat, where she chokes on it. "I know."

Annabeth doesn't look up. Just continues wrapping the bandages. "Are you going to be there?"

"I…" She's going to tell her no, she hadn't planned on it, because it would be too painful, but then Annabeth looks up. There are tears in her eyes and a tremble to her bottom lip that she is clearly trying hard to control.

Still, she's made up her mind. "No. I-I won't."

"Please, Thalia?" Annabeth begs, voice cracking. Her hands stop fiddling with the bandage to quickly catch the single tear that rolls down her cheek. "I-I just. We–us three–we started this. All of it. And I-I want the three of us there when we end it."

She sniffs, feeling the tears start to well over, hot on her cheeks. "It's already over, Annabeth. It was over that day, on Olympus."

She shakes her head frantically and fists her jeans. "It's not over until we all say goodbye–to this–to this chapter in our lives–to _him_." She looks back up at her. "I want us all to be together on-on the final day, because we're a family. Right? We stick together un-until the end, right?"

She looks down at Annabeth–stuck somewhere between still physically being an adolescent and mentally a woman four times her age–at the kid she considers her own. Annabeth has been betrayed, left behind, by both her and _him_. They were bad surrogates, huh?

After they adopted her, they would often talk about how they were going to give Annabeth everything in a family that they hadn't. He promised the girl every day that he would be there for her. He promised both of them, and they promised him.

 _Until the end._

"Yeah," she says. "We are. A family. And…families stick together."

She earns a sad, tight smile. "You'll be there?"

"I will." She nods, and ignores the pain in her leg so that she can sit up fully and grab Annabeth's arm, dragging her onto her lap so that she can hug her, because she is _not_ standing up without her crutches. She latches on tight. "I will."

It's time to say goodbye.

 **AN: I ship Thalia with people who she can never be with (Luke, Bianca, and Zoe, but especially Luke) because she's** _ **immortal**_ **and they're** _ **dead**_ **and it's** _ **painful**_ **. *sobs* Why do I** _ **do**_ **this to myself?**

 **This was not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. If you find any spelling or grammatical errors, please inform me so I may fix them.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson. If I did, Luke would be alive somehow so that he and Thalia could be together. The title of this was based off of lyrics from** _ **Hold Each Other**_ **by** _ **A Great Big World.**_

 **Constructive critiscm welcome, and reviews FEED MY DEMONIC POWERS! BWA HA HA!**


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